


How Quick the Sun

by combatfaerie



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Consensual Underage Sex, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Sexual Content, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combatfaerie/pseuds/combatfaerie
Summary: A Rollynch/Brollins high school AU. Seth wants two things more than anything else in the world: to leave the small town he's living in, and to become a professional wrestler. When Becky's family moves in next door, he meets someone who shares his dreams.
Relationships: Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

Throughout the town, the two wayward houses were called The Orphans, the abandoned legacy of a developer that had swept in and promised a wealth of new jobs and planned to build new homes for all those lucky workers. The jobs never manifested so the houses didn't either, except for the two which had been the original show homes, meant to sell the hard-luck town on this shiny new dream. To the side of the first house and the rear of both, the land set aside for further residential development sat empty and overgrown; local kids used it as a field for whatever sport they happened to be obsessed with that season. To the side of the second house, the developer's erstwhile offices had been turned into an attempt at a strip mall, anchored by a new library. Across the road was a regular line of regular houses, but for some reason The Orphans carried a stigma that lingered long after the developer had skipped town.

Seth had lived in the second orphaned house for longer than he cared to remember, which translated to roughly two years. After his mother's second divorce, she had wanted some space from her family and her former home town, so she had moved to an even smaller town, one that lived in the shadow of the neighbouring city's airport. Every few months, people started bitching about the town eventually being amalgamated by the looming city, but Seth didn't see why it was a bad thing. His mother Holly worked in the city and he went to school there—spent as much time as he could there, really, when he wasn't holed up in his bedroom—and most of the townsfolk did the same, so what was the big deal about making it official?

During his two years, Seth had seen a few different people move in to the first house, but none of them stayed long. He was fairly certain the first guy was a drug dealer; for three weeks straight, the police had been there almost every day, the flashing red and blue lights adding some colour to his mostly gloomy bedroom. After that guy left, the house was vacant for two months until just before Christmas, when a young couple with newborn twins moved in. Not long after, the screaming matches started and they were divorced and relocating before spring. There were weird old ladies who called him _young man_ and a creepy guy who tried to watch Holly whenever she was in the bathroom. "Can't we just move back by Grandma and Grandpa?" Seth would ask his mother each time something went down next door. 

But Holly always refused, going on about independence and determination and doing things on her own. "We can't run back to Grandma and Grandpa every time things get tough," she said, frowning at the growing pile of bills. She never kept them any place obvious, like the kitchen table or on the fridge, but it was a small house and it wasn't hard to find them, so Seth knew things weren't going well for them either. He had started mowing lawns to help chip in, but most people in the town weren't much better off.

So when yet another family moved into the first house, Seth was torn between wondering what drama would drive them away and hoping they would stick around so he could maybe make a few bucks doing yard work. Once he saw how small their moving truck was, though, he gave up on the latter; he had seen mail trucks at the post office that were larger. They were also driving it themselves, which probably meant they didn't have a lot of money to spare either.

At first glance, he guessed it was a mom and her two kids. The woman looked like she would be his mother's age, maybe a bit older; most people over twenty didn't pay much attention to Seth, so he returned the favour. Then there was a guy who looked like he put in some serious work at a gym; Seth guessed he fell into the under-twenty bracket because he was wearing a wrestling t-shirt. "Austin 3:16," Seth said to himself as he watched from his window. Stone Cold Steve Austin wasn't necessarily his favourite, but maybe he would have someone to talk wrestling with. It looked like the guy might have some workout tips to share too.

The third person to jump down from the moving truck and definitely the most reluctant was a dark-haired girl who looked to be around his age. Her expression wasn't quite a scowl, but it was obvious that she wasn't happy to be there. "Ma, why can't we just go back home? I promise I won't screw up again. . . ."

_Again?_ Seth thought. The drama was already beginning and the new family hadn't even unlocked the door. Then something else hit him: The girl had a strong accent. His first guess was British, but that didn't seem quite right.

"You know why, Rebecca." The woman's voice had the same lilt, but it was sharper, the tone the same as the one his mother used when she got sick of him asking the same thing over and over. "Out of sight, out of mind. I've got a job here, Richy's got one lined up, and a change of scenery will do you good. And for the love of God, pull up your jeans!"

The remark made Seth look closer and he realized the girl was wearing low-slung jeans with thong underwear peeking out—just like Lita did in the ring. Was she a fan too? He hadn't met any girls who were into wrestling, so he doubted it. There were a few guys at his school who watched it, but as soon as any girls got close enough, they refused to talk about it.

"This is how they're supposed to sit, Ma!" the girl— _Rebecca,_ Seth reminded himself—retorted. Her voice got sharper too, but unlike her mother's it deepened at the same time.

"Well, you're not dressing like that for school, let me tell you." Then the mother pinched the bridge of her nose. "Richy, will you please tell your sister that she's not going to be a wrestler just because she dresses like one? It's dangerous, Rebecca. You could get hurt." 

It was a private moment, the bickering back and forth, and Seth knew his mother would have told him he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but he couldn't help it. It sounded like Rebecca liked wrestling too. Maybe he could finally have some friends in town—as long as the first house didn't spit them out like it did everyone else.


	2. Chapter 2

"Colby, aren't you ready yet? You know I start work at nine!" Holly's voice carried through the small house even more than the doorbell did, not that anyone came to their door often. Even on Halloween, trick-or-treaters rarely bothered to cross the street just to go to two extra houses.

" _Mom_ , I told you I want to be called Seth. I want to get used to my wrestling name." Seth shoveled most of his breakfast in his mouth and went upstairs to change before he got some variant of the _I called you Colby when you were born and I will call you that until the day you die_ reply his mom liked to give. He was so busy stewing that he didn't realize what time it actually was until he looked at his clock. "Mom! What gives? I had tons of time!" Each word was punctuated by a thudding step down the stairs.

Holly looked up from rinsing dishes in the kitchen sink. "I want to leave early today. I was talking to Annette from next door last night and her daughter wasn't signed up for the school bus service yet, so she has no way to get to school." She sounded vaguely unimpressed with Annette's mothering. "Since I'm already dropping you off, I offered to take her too." 

The school bus was another sore spot between Seth and his mother. Technically the little town did have bus service that would take him to his school, but after a few altercations, Holly decided it would better—and perhaps a bit cheaper—if she dropped her son off on her way to work. It meant Seth had to stick to her schedule, which left him with about an hour to kill each weekday. In theory, he used it to do homework, but he usually went to a nearby comic shop instead.

Seth rolled his eyes. "This isn't going to be an everyday thing, is it?" If it was just him and his mom in the car, she was perfectly content to let him sulk and bury his thoughts in his music, pumped through his headphones while she listened to adult contemporary on the radio. If there was a guest, especially one his age, he would be expected to be sociable.

"Why not?" Holly dried the breakfast dishes quickly and put them away. "I'm going to the school anyway," she pointed out, "so it's not like it's out of our way or anything. We don't have to go anywhere to pick her up." Glancing away, she added, "And if Annette's willing to chip in on gas, it would help."

"Well, it doesn't mean I'm going to talk to her." As if to prove his point, Seth fixed his headphones in place early. They were the one piece of tech in the house that was actually high quality, a present from his grandparents that his mother jokingly called an investment in her sanity.

Holly gave an eye roll of her own. "I'm sure she'll be crushed. Annette said she wanted to get her daughter away from 'a bad crowd'—I don't know if she meant drugs or booze or both; could be something else entirely, I don't know. So maybe it's better if you don't get chummy." Then she sighed. "Come on. She's supposed to meet us on the driveway." What she meant was the wide stretch of gravel between the two houses, left unfinished by the absentee developer. It hurt like hell whenever Seth skidded out on it on his bike, but it was also noisy, which meant he got some forewarning if his mom came home early on the weekend.

The girl was waiting on the driveway with a heavily decorated backpack dangling from her hands when Seth and his mother came out. Her outfit looked pretty much the same as what she had been wearing the day before, but the shirt was longer and covered the waistband of her jeans; Seth wondered if that was her concession to her mother. "Thank you for the ride, ma'am," she said politely, clearly making an effort to reduce her accent. Seth wished she wouldn't, and not just because his mother was horrible with accents; he liked the way Rebecca's lilt made her words seem to dance.

Holly gave her a neutral smile. "Oh, you don't have to call me ma'am. Holly is just fine. This is my son, Colby—"

"Seth," he countered reflexively.

"I don't think you two will be in the same classes," Holly continued seamlessly. "But it will depend on how Irish courses match up to American ones, I guess. Do you prefer to be called Rebecca or Becky?" Seth snorted at that. She could ask the neighbour girl which name she preferred, but not enough accept his choice? Typical.

"Um, Becky's good. _Rebecca_ makes me think I'm getting in trouble," she added with a shrug. She started to head for the left side of the car but stopped herself when she looked in the window. "Right. Sorry."

Holly's smile warmed a bit. "That's fine. I imagine this is a big culture shock for you, coming from . . . Dublin, is it? Well, you don't have to worry. The staff at the school are really good. They'll get you sorted out no problem." 

"I hope so." Then Becky gestured to the car. "Where do you sit?" she asked Seth.

Seth was impressed for a moment. She hadn't asked his mother where she could sit, but rather where he did. "I've got the back," he said curtly. He felt a bit guilty when her shoulders slumped, however, so he added, "But you can put your bag back there so you have more room."

Becky gave him a look and shook her head. "I've got it. Thanks." Then she slid into the passenger seat and buckled up.

The temptation to kick the back of her seat was huge, but Seth knew he was already on thin ice with his mother, so he slumped back like normal—but he did turn down the volume of his music so he could hear Becky talk. His mother was asking the usual assortment of boring questions—about siblings, friends, what Ireland was like—and Seth found himself actually listening to every answer Becky gave. She didn't hint at what 'bad crowd' she had fallen in with and Seth noticed that his mother had avoided any talk of Becky's father, which meant there was probably a story there. But Becky somehow managed to be polite enough to Holly while lacing her replies with enough teenage disdain that Seth noticed. _How does she do that?_ he marveled. His attempts at being snide usually ended up with him being grounded or losing access to what remained of his workout equipment in the basement; Holly hadn't let him bring everything along on their latest move, and he didn't want to have any more pieces taken away.

"My ma was saying there was a bus I could take," Becky said. "Is that something the school people will help me with too?"

Before Holly could answer, before Seth even realized what he was doing, he poked his head between the two front seats. "The bus sucks. Mom drives in to the city every day anyway. You can just come with us."

Holly shot him the barest of smug looks before focusing on the road again, but Becky's smile was worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

"My ma is a flight attendant. She helped my brother get a job in baggage handling. That's why she wanted to live close to the airport." Becky had officially survived her first day of American school purely by virtue of not only being the new kid, but the new _foreign_ kid. She knew the teasing and bullying would come soon enough, but for the first few days, she would have the novelty of being from Europe and speaking another language. She should have been milking it, maybe trying to make some friends before they could think better of it, but she was sitting with Seth instead. _Colby?_ she thought, trying to remember what his mother had called him first. They hadn't shared any classes that day, so she hadn't heard his name called out. Aside from a small group of wrestling nerds, Seth didn't seem to have a lot of friends. "But the airport is the other direction. Guess Ma didn't think about that when she was finding a school for me."

"You guys seriously don't know anyone here?" Seth asked, matching his pace to hers. He had warned her that they would have about an hour to wait until Holly could pick them up, so he was giving her a tour of the school's neighbourhood so she would know where she could buy food that hadn't gone through the crucible of the cafeteria. "It just seems like a really random place to move. Why didn't your mom pick some other place in Ireland or England or something?"

Becky laughed. "Someone doesn't know anything about the Irish." Then her smile dimmed a bit. "She had put in for a job transfer and this was the first thing that came up. I was getting into trouble back home and she thought a change of scene would help." She rubbed at her arms absently; America—or this chunk of it, at least—was chillier than Ireland. "Where would you move to, if you could move anywhere?"

"I don't know. Some place with a wrestling league, I guess." Seth swept his foot through a pile of leaves on the sidewalk. "I noticed your brother's Stone Cold shirt yesterday." He blushed a bit as he added, "And your style is kind of like Lita's. Do you guys watch wrestling?"

"Yeah." Becky tightened her hands around her backpack straps. She had barely known her neighbour for a day and he had already seen her underwear. No wonder Holly had been interrogating her on the ride into the city. "I love it. I'd love to do it, but I'm so rubbish at sports. And . . . I mean, I want to _wrestle_. Not that bra-and-panty shit, you know?" As they neared the convenience store, she slowed by a wall that had been turned into an unofficial notice board, papered with brightly coloured and often badly spelled ads promoting everything from landscaping to palm reading, but it was a different sort of flyer that caught her attention. "There's a wrestling school around here? You're so lucky! What's it like?"

Seth hadn't even realized she stopped to look at the ads and he had to jog back. "What are you looking at?" he asked. 

He probably walked past the notices so often he barely registered them, so Becky pointed to a bright yellow page. "A wrestling school," she repeated. She looked at the address, but it meant nothing to her; she hadn't even memorized her new home address and phone number yet and had to keep looking at the paper she kept in her wallet whenever anyone asked for her information. "Is it anywhere near here?"

Seth shook his head. "Not really, but it's not super far either. I think I know where it is." He glanced from side to side and, seeing no one watching, ripped the whole ad down from the wall. "What?" he asked when Becky gave him a look. "They don't have those little slips to pull off with the phone number on them," he said in his defense, pointing at some examples on other ads. "And the paper's old, so it's probably been here forever."

"We could have just written the number down," Becky replied. What was the likelihood that she would have found that ad on her own? It had to be a sign—and if it was a sign for her, who was to say how many other people needed to see it? But Seth just shrugged, folded the paper, and tucked it in his bag. "Is there any way into the city on weekends? I know Ma's buying a car soon, but her hours are all over the place, so she probably wouldn't be able to take me. Not that she would anyway. She hates wrestling. She tenses up whenever someone jumps off the top rope. It's ridiculous."

"Has she ever seen a steel cage match?" Seth didn't have to worry too much about his mother's opinions on wrestling: Holly was either busy working or busy at home, and when she wanted to relax, she preferred books to television.

Becky shook her head and laughed. "She might have seen the start of one, but she'd never be able to sit through one. Whenever Richy—that's my brother—would borrow one of the WrestleMania DVDs from his friend, Mom would basically hide in the kitchen for three hours. Double win, I guess: we got to watch the matches in peace, and she usually ended up baking something so she couldn't hear the commentary." She felt a slight twinge of guilt. She knew her mother loved her and that the move from Ireland was really so she could clean up her act before she lost her way completely, but that didn't make adjusting any easier. "So why did you choose the name Seth? I was trying to think if there was a wrestler with that name way back and I couldn't think of any."

Seth shrugged lightly, but she caught a glimpse of his smile. He hadn't liked it when his mother had introduced him as Colby that morning, and his chosen name seemed to mean a lot to him. "I just thought it sounded cool."

"So what would your last name be for wrestling?" Becky asked. It was a better topic than thinking about how much her mother had given up in hopes of Becky straightening out. "I never really thought that far ahead. They always give the women such stupid names."

"Rollins," Seth said after a moment. "For Henry Rollins."

"I like Pearl Jam," Becky replied, "but _Becky Vedder_ just doesn't have a good ring to it, you know?" She kept thinking about it as she walked. Now that there was a potential wrestling school she could go to—if she could afford it _and_ convince her mother that it would be good for her, keeping her fit and all—she needed to think about things like names and ring gear and gimmicks.

Seth nudged her elbow so she turned at the next corner, and Becky glanced around in surprise: the school was barely a speck from where they were, and she hadn't even realized they had walked that far. _Time flies when you're having fun,_ her mother would say, but Becky thought it had more to do with the company. Seth was one of the first guys—outside of her brother, of course—who hadn't made fun of her desire to wrestle. "You don't have to use your real first name, you know. Most wrestlers don't."

"I know. But I like it." Becky shuffled from foot to foot as they waited for the traffic light to change. "My dad picked it," she added, "and he's always told me to follow my dreams, so I want to keep it for him." She figured Seth hadn't asked the obvious question for an equally obvious reason: there didn't seem to be a father in his current family picture either. "My parents split up when I really young, but they're good about it. Mostly. And Ma wanted to make sure he stayed a part of our lives growing up. He doesn't get why I want to wrestle, but he supports it anyway."

"I wish my mom did," Seth replied, pointing to the next road they were going to explore. "She acts all supportive and always says _You can do anything you put your mind to_ , but as soon as it's something she doesn't approve of, then she just picks on every little thing."

"Maybe we should call about that school tomorrow," Becky suggested. "Find out the age limits and the costs and show our moms that we're really serious." She didn't know how much any of that would sway her mom, but it couldn't hurt. Having something active and positive to focus on might help her adjust to everything, and if she could befriend the next-door neighbour, that would be better than having a friend she could only see during school hours because they lived too far away.

"Sure. Hey, let's stop in here. I'm hungry." Seth pointed to a convenience store, its windows utterly covered with sun-bleached ads. "My treat," he added. "It'll be like a _Welcome to America_ present or something."

"Is that traditional? _Welcome to America; have a bottle of Coke_?" Becky joked, looking for familiar brands on the shelves and seeing only a few. Grocery shopping with her mother on the weekends was going to be an adventure for the first while.

Seth grinned. "I was thinking more about ice cream, but you can pick whatever you want." He led the way to a deep chest freezer near the back of the store. The clerk kept eying them as if she expected them to start cramming chocolate bars in their bags and run off. "It's cheap now because the summer rush is over. . . ."

Becky lit up when she spied a familiar wrapper, and she plunged her arm into the chest freezer to pull one from its box. "These are so good!"

Seth gave it one look and wrinkled his nose. "Mint chocolate? Seriously? That’s the worst flavor combination ever."

"No way! Chocolate goes with everything!" Becky insisted.

"It's disgusting!" They bickered back and forth from the freezer to the cash register and on the walk back to the school to wait for Holly, long after their ice creams were both gone. And when the argument continued in the car, Becky almost didn't notice that Seth scooted over in the back seat to make room for her and her bag.


	4. Chapter 4

"Really, Rebecca? _Now?_ " Becky didn't think it was possible for her mother to reach new levels of exasperation, but living in America seemed to be having that effect on her. Being a flight attendant was never easy, given the demanding passengers and all the travelling playing havoc with your internal clock, but Annette had been more stressed than usual. "You know this isn't a good time. The bloody car just broke down and we've only had it a week—"

Considering her mother had only paid about a thousand dollars for the car, Becky didn't think this was entirely surprising. People had televisions that cost more than that second-hand junker. "Ma, you know I've wanted to do this forever. . . ."

"So _forever_ is around a year now, give or take? Good to know." Annette slammed back the rest of her coffee and shook her head. It was one of her rare Sundays off, but she wasn't enjoying it at all. Richy was doing his best to fix the car with one of his new co-workers, but considering the steady amount of profanity coming in the side windows, it didn't seem to be going well. "I'm sorry," Annette added after a terse moment. "I'm glad you're interested in something. I am. But I just don't think we can afford it right now. We had to pay the damage deposit and the first and last months' rent up front, and then there are all the start-up fees. I should be paying Holly more for driving you to school, but she's been kind about it, bless her."

But Becky was undeterred. "What if I . . . volunteered at the wrestling school? I could offer to clean the locker rooms or put up their flyers or something."

Annette went over to hug her daughter, sighing when Becky stiffened up a bit. "I know you mean well, and I appreciate the thought, but how would that work? You can't expect Holly to drive you, and we have no car. The school bus only runs on certain hours, and it's not cheap either. And putting up flyers? We've only been here a few weeks, Rebecca: you don't know your way around or where good spots would be. Cleaning the locker rooms? They're not going to leave a teenage girl alone in that kind of place, not if they have any sort of sense."

Becky leaned back, eyes narrowing. " _That kind of place?_ What's that supposed to mean?"

"I asked one of the girls at work to drive me past and . . . it's not in a good neighbourhood, Rebecca," Annette hedged. "It's full of liquor stores and pawn shops and 'massage parlours', which I'm pretty sure are fronts for prostitution. I wouldn't want you down there alone."

"It's not exactly like we're living in the Beverly Hills of neighbourhoods ourselves, Ma," Becky countered. She could feel herself getting petty and she hated it. If she could just stay calm and steady, her mother might consider paying for a month of wrestling school, but if she turned into a whiny child, any chance she had would be lost. "And I wouldn't be there alone. Seth wants to join too."

"Ah. Seth." Annette stepped back and nodded knowingly. "I don't think Holly's going to let him sign up either, Rebecca, and for much the same reasons. It's not in a good area, and besides, what credentials do these people have?" Becky had found another ad and, despite her earlier misgivings about Seth tearing one down from the wall, she had taken it for herself and put it on the fridge with a happy-face magnet so it was part reminder and part motivation. Annette went over and pulled it free, silently rereading the cheaply printed ad. "Do you even recognize their names? Have they wrestled for any company you've ever even heard of?"

It was a long shot, but Becky knew she had to try. "But . . . Ma, I think the head coach is Irish. Look, his name is Fergal Dev—"

"That doesn't mean anything!" To her credit, Annette didn't crumple up the ad and toss it in the trash, but probably because she knew her daughter would only find another one and put it in an even more prominent position. Instead she set it on the kitchen table, a thrift-store find like most of their furniture. She had hoped it would give the house a cozy, lived-in look, but it merely reinforced the truth: they were sticking together odds and ends in hopes of creating a whole. "The only way I'd even consider it is if Richy would go too, _but_ it can't take away from his job. We have to get settled, Rebecca. We can't just afford to hop on a plane and go back."

But Becky was already out the back door, running towards where her brother and his co-worker were working on the car. "Richy! _Richy!_ "

"For fuck's sake, Becks, what do you want?" He half-emerged from under the car, smudged with dirt and grease. 

Becky skidded to a stop not far from his head. "Ma said she would only consider letting me go to the wrestling school if you went too. Would you? Please?"

Richy let out a string of swears so inventive that Becky hadn't even heard half of them before, so she did her best to remember them for future use. "Becks, I have to help Ma pay the bills! I need hours at work. Yes, I want to wrestle; you know that's my dream too. But I have to deal with reality right now, not dreams."

"Classes are only on the weekends." Heedless of the gravel driveway, Becky sat down beside her brother. On the other side of the car, his co-worker kept working and swearing in plain English, which Becky didn't think sounded half as cathartic. "And you don't have to go to all of them. Plus I think one of the teachers might be Irish, so maybe he'll cut us a break? Please, Richy. You have work and you can go out and all that, but all I have is school and it's full of stupid dopes who act like they can't understand my accent." As she predicted, the novelty of being the new foreign kid had worn off quickly, and now kids were making fun of her accent. Seth did too sometimes, but there was something different about the way he did it; if he teased her, it felt more like he wanted to hear her say the word again.

Richy reached up to rub at his face, but remembered that he had grease on his hands. "You're talking about that ad on the fridge, yeah?" He shut his eyes briefly, doing some mental math. "I've got a little bit of spare cash. We can sign up for one month. After that, we'll have to see. You'll have to start chipping in or—"

"THANK YOU!" Becky gave her brother a huge hug before standing up. She didn't run right back in the house, though; instead she crossed the yard to Seth's house, picked up a small rock, and tossed it at his window. "Seth!" she called out for good measure. Sometimes he played his music so loud she could hear it when she was outside, but she liked a lot of the same bands, so she didn't mind.

After a moment or two, Seth came to the window. "Hey. What's up?"

"Ma said she might let me go to the wrestling school if my brother did, and my brother agreed to go for a month!" Becky hopped around in a circle, happier than she'd been since coming to America. Who would have thought she would have to go to another country to get a chance at her dream? "What did your mom say?" She was so excited she would have climbed the drain pipe up to his room, but there was a wire screen on the window that couldn't be removed, and Holly had seemed less than keen to find her in the house watching wrestling with Seth a few nights ago, even though there had been a bowl of popcorn sitting between them.

Seth didn't seem as enthused. "I have to pay half, and I have to find a way there and back."

"You could come with us!" If he wasn't going to be excited, then Becky could be excited for both of them. "I just have to talk to my ma. Talk later?"

He brightened up a bit at that. Their windows didn't overlook each other, but sometimes they would meet up in the back field and talk well into the night until one of their mothers called them back in. "Yeah, sure."

When Becky got back in the house, her mother was in the living room, just about to turn on the television. "Ma! Richy said he'd be game to sign up for a month. So can I? Please?"

Annette had the look of someone who knew there was no winning in her future. "Only if we set some ground rules. First, school always takes priority. If your grades start to dip, then you quit wrestling, even if you have time left in your month. Second, if you get hurt, you quit. You're not even sixteen, Rebecca," she said when Becky started to protest. "You don't want something like a broken neck that will affect the rest of your life." She listed off a few more conditions and Becky did her best to pay attention, but excitement was making her skin buzz.

When Annette seemed to be done, Becky took a deep breath. "Can I call Da and let him know?"

"Check the time difference," Annette said with a sigh. "And keep it quick. We don't have a long distance plan."

Becky grabbed the cordless phone and took it up to her room. Her father had given her a calling card code so she could call him without the charges going to her mother, but she was trying to use it sparingly so she didn't cost her father a bunch of money either. "Da! Da!" When he picked up on his end of the line, all Becky's excitement spilled out. "Guess what?"

"Hello, sweetheart." Ken's voice was bright and happy, just what Becky needed to hear. "Let's see . . . did you win an award at school?"

" _No._ There's a wrestling school in the city," Becky said, too hyper to try drawing out the suspense, "and Ma said I could try it for a month!" 

If the roles had been reversed and Becky had been living with Ken and calling Annette, she would have expected a chilly silence and then something like _Put your father on the phone, please_. Her dad was one of her biggest supporters, though, and he laughed cheerily. "Oh, my girl, I'm so happy for you. I know how much you've been wanting this."

Becky sniffled back some tears. Even when she was back in Ireland, she hadn't been able to see her dad all the time, but now that there was an ocean between them, she missed him more than ever. "Thank you, Da."

"I'll send some money to your mother to help cover the costs. I can't do much," he said, regret thickening his voice, "but I hope it will help."

"Thank you, Da," Becky repeated, unable to stop the tears now. She wiped at her face with her sleeve and curled up on her bed, crying and smiling all at once. "I miss you," she added in a small voice. She was trying to stay positive about the move for her mother's sake, but some days it was really hard; if she didn't have Seth to talk to at school, she didn't know what she would do.

"I miss you too, sweetheart. And Christmas isn't so very far away. Your grandparents won't like me spoiling the surprise," Ken added, his voice rising in a such a way that Becky could practically imagine the gleam in his eyes, "but they're going to get tickets for you and Richy to come back to Ireland for a week for a visit. But don't say anything."

Becky bounced on her bed. "I won't. I promise. I should probably go, though, before Ma tells me to get off the phone."

"You call whenever you need to, sweetheart. If I'm here, I'll answer. Even if it's three in the morning." After wishing her luck at the wrestling school, Ken hung up, leaving Becky with an empty line and a full heart. It took her a moment to remember to shut off the phone.

When she bounded down the stairs, Becky refused to have her happiness diminished by her mother's look of apprehension. "Da's happy for me," she reported, setting the phone back on the table, "and said he'll send some money to help cover the fees." She knew not to get her hopes up too far: her father could be absentminded at the best of times, and even though her mother had tried to keep it from her, there had been quite a few times when he had fallen back on promises.

Annette's tight smile restrained all those worries and more, but she still held her arms out to her daughter. "One step at a time, Rebecca. The classes could be full, for all we know. Once Richy has the car fixed, you two can go and check things out."

"Us two and Seth," Becky corrected, natural as anything. She didn't have a lot of friends at school and she quickly understood Seth's frustration: since they lived outside the city, it was hard to go over to friends' houses or to invite them over in kind.

Her mother almost hid her flinch. "Well, we'll have to talk to his mother about that. . . ."

Becky wasn't listening anymore. She was just thinking about how great her evening chat with Seth was going to be. His friendship was one of the few bright spots of the move, and if she got to combine that with wrestling lessons, so much the better.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why did you lie about your age?" Seth whispered as he and Becky helped clean up after their first night of lessons. Richy was still busy talking to Fergal, so they thought they would try to help out and make a good impression. "And your brother didn't even rat you out!" He knew Becky was about a year younger than him since they didn't share any classes at school, but when she signed her wrestling forms she had claimed to be seventeen.

Becky shook her head. "They would probably say I was too young. They might fudge things for a year," she said, "but not two or three." She was the only girl in the class, so Fergal had let her change in the office to avoid any locker room issues; it wasn't worth opening up the women's locker room in the small gym for only one person.

Seth folded up another mat and tossed it on the pile even as his muscles ached. It was like the pleasant burn after a workout, but so much better. Fergal didn't have a ring set up yet, but he promised one was on the way. Their first lesson had been about taking bumps, and with Becky being the only girl, Seth had wondered how that was going to work. But she went into the lesson with enthusiasm and even though she was one of the clumsiest people in the class, she never once gave up or got frustrated. He wished he could say the same. "Hope your mom doesn't say anything. And that no one else from school joins up." The latter wasn't likely; Seth was sure he knew everyone in the school who liked wrestling, and he could tally them up on two hands.

"Be so good they can't ignore you." It sounded like some sort of cliché inspirational quote, but coming from Becky, it resonated. Maybe it was the accent. Fergal had an Irish accent too, but it was different than hers; watching her light up at hearing a little piece of home had made Seth smile. "I'm not good yet, but I'll keep at it until I am."

Their next few classes went much the same way, though Fergal started talking to them more as well, thanking them for their help with cleaning up and praising their dedication. They both soaked up the praise like it was sunshine. Neither Annette nor Holly was enthused with the wrestling school idea, but since both kids were fulfilling their promises to the letter, they didn't have much room to complain. Ken had actually come through on his end and sent enough money to pay for two months of lessons for Becky, and she had been dutifully keeping her marks up. Seth had been doing as much yard work as he could, impressing Holly so much that she gave in and covered the remainder of the fees that he couldn't. Between Richy and Holly, they always had a ride to and from class and according to their teacher, he had never seen such devoted students.

On the nights when one of their respective houses was empty—their mothers out working or enjoying some downtime with friends—Seth and Becky would meet up and practice once their homework was done. Sometimes the school work was part of the deal: being a year ahead, Seth could help her with some of the complicated math lessons, and Becky helped him with history. Then they would pull couch cushions or a mattress to the floor and go over the last move set they had learned. Seth was definitely the better of the two of them, but he knew he was no match for Becky's boundless enthusiasm. No matter how many times she was flipped, dropped, or pinned, she was always game to try again. Seth, on the other hand, wasn't so gracious a loser.

At least not in class. When it was just one on one with Becky, it wasn't so bad. At first he told himself it was because it was just practice; Fergal wasn't there to critique and no one else was there to see. Most of it was purely due to Becky, though. He liked spending time with her, especially when that time included touching. He'd never had a super serious crush before and had always laughed at his friends when they got all stupid over a girl, but now he got it. He got it maybe a little too much. After he had let Becky flip and pin him for the third time that night, she sat back and glared down at him. "Why are you letting me beat you? You know I don't give a fuck about that." She swore as easy as breathing and he loved how plain English swears like _fuck_ and _shit_ sounded with her accent.

His first instinct was to say that he wasn't, but Becky would see right through that. "Because winning all the time is boring?" he chanced.

She laughed at that, pushing him back down as he sat up. "That sounds more like it. I wish I were getting better as fast as you are. You're so good."

The praise made Seth blush. When Fergal complimented him, it was a relief; when Becky did, it made his heart race a bit. "I played a bunch of different sports when I was little. Mom put me in a bunch of team stuff to get me out of my shell and whatever."

Becky's gaze darkened a bit. "I just feel bad because my dad's chipping in and I know he doesn't have a lot of money to spare, and I'm not getting much better. . . ."

"You're good," Seth said firmly, hopping to his feet. "You just need to work on your follow-throughs. Want to practice some belly-to-belly suplexes?"

"Sure." Becky was slower to stand, but she easily moved into position. "I always get my foot in the wrong spot."

"Put your feet here and here," Seth instructed, helping her adjust her positioning before getting into place himself. "You know where to put your hands?"

"Here and . . . here?" Becky placed the second one with a bit of hesitation. The move required both wrestlers to be close, but now Seth was noticing little things like the hints of amber in her eyes and how her shirt had pulled away from her leggings, leaving a strip of her back bare.

Seth swallowed hard. Fergal had warned them all—well, all of them excluding Becky—about the importance of groin protection, but now Seth was wishing he had one for a different reason. "Uh, yeah. Okay, so. . . ."

His blood was rushing so loudly in his ears that he didn't hear the back door open or his mother's footsteps until she was already in the living room. She took one look at the mattress on the floor and the tangled embrace and stopped in her tracks. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing wrestling," Seth said quickly, stepping back from Becky and cursing how his cheeks flushed. They hadn't been doing anything wrong, so why was he blushing so much it hurt? "I was helping Becky learn how to do a suplex—"

Holly's voice went stiff and formal. "It's a school night. You should probably be heading home, Rebecca."

" _Mom_." She was always telling him to be polite, and yet here she was practically pushing Becky out the door.

But Becky barely flinched at the rudeness or the use of her full name. "Thanks for the help, Seth. See you tomorrow morning."

Holly waited for a moment to follow Becky to the back door to make sure she didn't linger in their yard. Once Becky was at her own door, Holly turned back to her son. "That didn't look like wrestling, Colby."

Seth didn't argue about the name; there was something bigger at stake now. "It's a called a belly-to-belly suplex, Mom. You've seen wrestling. You know you have to get close to do most of the moves. . . ."

"And do they all involve a mattress?" From her tone, it sounded like she had walked in on them having sex.

"We were just trying to be safe—" Seth bent and started hauling the mattress away. It was from the futon she kept in the spare room, claiming it was for guests, but he couldn't remember the last time anyone had come to visit them.

"Baby, that girl isn't safe! Her mom had to move her to _another country_ because she was getting into drugs and alcohol." Surprised with herself, Holly stopped to catch her breath, but she didn't apologize. "I don't want that for you. I just want you to be healthy and happy. . . ."

"Are you sure about the second part?" Seth fired back, dropping the mattress back on its frame. "Because it doesn't really feel like it." While Holly was still flustered and speechless, Seth stormed up to his bedroom, cranking his music as soon as he locked his door. He thought he was ready to stew in his anger, but now that he was alone with it, he found that wasn't what he wanted at all. After double-checking the lock on his door and the volume of his music, Seth popped his screen out of his window and climbed down slowly, careful to avoid any spots by the windows. Then he skulked across the night-dark yards and knocked on Becky's back door. Her family's car wasn't there, so he presumed she was home alone.

Seth kept glancing back at his house as he knocked. Would Becky even answer? Her mother had probably told her to not go to the door if she was home alone. He was almost ready to go back home when he heard a small creak and then saw Becky peer through the door's in-set window. "I hope you didn't get in too much trouble," she said as she opened the door and stepped back, letting him inside.

"She's overreacting," Seth said simply. "Sorry about that." He thought about what his mother had said about Becky having issues with drugs and alcohol, but it didn't match up with the girl he knew. Between school, homework, wrestling class, and being neighbours, he saw Becky a lot and had never even seen her pick up a cigarette. "Don't worry about it."

Becky gave him a lopsided smile. "I don't think she likes me much."

"I like you," Seth blurted, blushing to the point of pain again "I mean, for whatever that's worth. . . ."

Seth had his gaze cast down, so he saw Becky's feet shuffle forward before the rest of her was close enough to touch. "It means a lot. And I like you too."

Their first attempt at a kiss was complicated by their noses, but once they figured the angles out, it was soft and hesitant and for the briefest of moments, Seth could almost forgive his mother for the assumption she had made, because other uses for mattresses were racing through his mind. The slamming of a car door made them jump apart, and he was stupidly glad to see that Becky was blushing too. "Shit. Does your mom come to the front door or the back?"

"Front, usually," Becky said, darting forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "So if you hurry, she probably won't see you."

"Okay. See you tomorrow." He could feel the stupidest grin stretching his mouth and he didn't care a bit.

Because it was mirrored on Becky's lips too. "Night." After he stepped outside, she quickly relocked the doors and he could hear her running to the front door to open it for her mother.

Seth snuck back in his room as quickly as he could. His mother wouldn’t normally try talking to him after a spat for at least half an hour, so he should have time to spare. There wasn't nearly enough time to think about that kiss, though, so he tucked the memory in the back of his mind and let it help propel him back up to his window.


	6. Chapter 6

The word _dating_ never really came up, but both Becky and Seth knew something changed for them that night. Since they didn’t think either of their mothers would approve, they tried not to be too obvious at home. They still watched wrestling and practiced together when they figured they had enough mother-free time to spare, and they didn't hold hands or kiss in Holly's car. Since Richy was still attending most of the wrestling classes, there weren't many opportunities there either, so school became a strange haven where they could hang out together without anyone caring. Most of the teasing about her accent or occasional use of unusual words had stopped, and some of the quieter students had started approaching her asking what Europe was like, telling her their dreams of having a gap year backpacking abroad.

It was why, for the first time in years, Seth didn't mind getting to school early or having to wait an hour for a ride back home. That was time he got to spend with Becky uninterrupted and unstructured, without always worrying if his mother was watching or listening. Their lockers were down different hallways, but he always hurried after class to meet her at hers. "Hey," he said with a grin, leaning against the locker beside hers. She probably didn't realize she did it, but she always recited her combination softly as she turned the dial of her lock. "This weekend is going to be so great. We finally get to have an actual match in class!" The matches would be heavily monitored, of course, and Fergal said he would square off against Becky since she was the smallest in the class, but they were both still excited. Holly had been running late that morning, so they didn't get much time to talk before school began, and Seth couldn't wait to start brainstorming with her. He was already considering what to name his future signature move.

"Yeah." After she opened her lock, Becky looked at it for a few seconds as if she weren't sure what to do next. Then she shook her head and opened her locker door. "Sorry. Richy has to work on the weekend; one of his co-workers got an emergency call about her mom, so he's filling in for her. Do you think your mom would drive us? I know she told you that you had to find your own way there and back. . . ."

Seth stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around his waist, both of them laughing when she started to adjust her footing for a belly-to-back suplex. "I think she would make an exception. She's seen how seriously I'm taking it and that my grades aren't slipping, so she's getting better." He didn't bring up the awkward walk-in during their practice that ultimately led to their first kiss. Holly hadn't apologized for how she had acted to Becky, but she also hadn't been that chilly to her again; Seth figured that was as good as he was going to get.

Becky let out a sigh, leaning back against him. "Good. I didn't want you to have to miss your match," she said, twisting around just enough to kiss his cheek.

"My match," he echoed, reluctantly letting her go so she could get her bag packed. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could go to their favourite make-out spot. Seth had timed how long it took for them to jog from there back to the place where they waited for Holly to pick them up when she was off work, and he always set the timer on his watch to give them a warning. "What about your match?"

Becky shrugged as she slid a binder and two textbooks into her bag. "I'm happy to wrestle, sure, but . . . it's against the teacher. That's like being the loser kid who doesn't get picked and the teacher takes pity on them." Then she straightened up and smiled, rising up on tiptoe to kiss him. "Besides, you're way better."

"Not _way_ better." Seth wasn't going to lie: he knew he was one of the best students in the class. A few people had already dropped out, but Fergal and any of the guest coaches who had come in always commented on Seth's drive and focus. "You're getting better all the time."

"I'm pretty sure wrestling you down on your bed doesn't count." Becky's grin returned full force. Now that they were dating, they didn't practice on futon mattresses or couch cushions spread out in the living room anymore. In their bedrooms, they could transition from grappling to groping comfortably. "But it's definitely more fun."

Seth couldn't agree more. In the nights leading up to their matches at the wrestling school, they practiced—and 'practiced'—as much as they could each night, ending each session tangled up in each other, going a bit further each time. On the night before, they had both shed their shirts, and Seth's temperature—and something else, something far more noticable—rose as her bra straps slid down over her shoulders. Flustered and rasping, Becky pulled back, sitting on his knees. "I should probably stop."

"Okay." Seth felt like he was going to explode in every direction like fireworks, especially when he glanced down and saw a small dark patch on Becky's blue leggings. "What's that?" He immediately looked down at his workout shorts to make sure he hadn't come without realizing it, but they seemed dry.

Becky's blush was almost a primary red from ear to ear. "Oh. Um. It's just. . . ."

Sudden realization hit Seth like a body slam. "Did you come?"

"Not . . . not quite," Becky stammered, tucking hair behind her ears. "When I—" She stopped suddenly, sliding off Seth's lap and sitting beside him. When she saw how tented his shorts were, her blush spread even further, but Seth noticed a smile there too.

Seth couldn't keep his gaze from dropping to that tell-tale spot. "What do you do? I know my mom used to have a vibrator, but my last step-dad trashed it." He pressed his lips together firmly. Talking about his mother's sex toys probably wasn't a good way to keep a girlfriend.

"I just use my hands." After a shaky breath, Becky added, "I had a little vibrator—birthday present from my cousin last year—but I didn't bring it with me because I figured for sure it would get flagged by airport security and I didn't want them to tell my ma."

"Would you. . . ." Seth swore he could feel his cock twitch, and he fought the urge to pull a pillow over his lap. "Could I watch?"

For a moment, he thought Becky was going to smack him, grab her shirt, and run back home, or at least tell him off. Instead she reached over and shut the curtains, dousing the room in moon-blued light, and sat back on her knees, pushing her leggings halfway down her hips. "Don't make fun," she said softly, "but sometimes I . . . giggle. I don't know why. It's stupid, I know, but. . . ."

Seth loved the sound of her laugh anyway, deep and barbed and sly. "It's not stupid," he murmured, turning to face her, his gaze following her left hand as it dipped under her panties. _Weird,_ he thought distantly, utterly transfixed. _I thought she was right-handed._

Her leggings fit tight enough that he could see every stroke of her fingers. Her other hand went up to her breasts, and frustration flashed across her face. "I . . . I'm normally not wearing . . . this many clothes," she murmured.

"Take off whatever you want," Seth replied without thinking. They both laughed at that, Becky somewhat breathlessly as her hips started to rock against her hand, and then he added, "I won't do anything, I promise."

Becky was far enough along that she didn't need much convincing. Her free hand snaked around her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall loose to her elbows. Seth's gaze was immediately diverted, and he didn't even notice that she had stopped touching herself until she pulled her bra free and dropped it by her t-shirt. 

"Can I?" he blurted when she went to slide her hand between her legs again. "I just . . . I want to touch you. Anywhere you'll let me. Please?"

"Give me your hand." In the almost dark, Becky pulled Seth closer and wrapped her fingers around his wrist in a way that made him shudder. Then she pressed his hand flat against her belly, shivering for a moment before easing it down between her legs. Everything was wet and warm and soft and Seth shut his eyes as his pulse sped up. "Right . . . there." Her fingers fell away as she sighed.

At first, Seth couldn't believe it. The spot she guided him to was maybe the size of his thumb print, but Becky was already gasping after a few touches. "Is this okay?" he asked, pressing his mouth to her bare shoulder.

"Slower." Then she ran a hand down his chest. "Can I?" she asked, voice small as her fingers curled around the waistband of his shorts.

Seth was surprised he hadn't popped out of them yet. "Please." He swore softly as her hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking slowly, almost matching the rhythm of his fingers. "Faster. Please go faster."

Their free hands roamed as they kissed and stroked, pushing Seth's shorts down to his knees where he clumsily shuffled them off. It took more work to get Becky's leggings lower, and by then she was giggling and gasping and, for one perfect frozen moment, everything about her went still: her breathing, her hips, her mouth on his neck. Then she slumped against him, her hand still stroking him well after he came too. They both flopped down on the bed then and Becky tugged her leggings off, underwear going with them, and tossed them to the floor. "Sorry if I got your comforter wet," she murmured.

Now that he could think again, Seth reached under his mattress for the towel he kept handy for when he jerked off. As he wiped up what he could, he let his gaze wander down Becky's body sprawled out beside him. "Laundry's one of my chores, not Mom's. No biggie." Then he leaned over cautiously and kissed her. "Thank you. That felt so much better than when I do it."

Becky just laughed. "Probably because you can just enjoy it without thinking about it." She turned onto her side and let her fingers dance down Seth's chest. "Have you ever. . . ?"

Seth shook his head. "No. You?"

"No." Becky's hand lingered just below his hip. "Do . . . do you want to?" He felt the heat of her blush against his shoulder. "Not right now. Ma won't let me go on birth control and I don't have condoms, so—"

"We could get some," Seth replied, "tomorrow. Mom said she would drop us off and pick us up, but then she's going out with a bunch of friends for a wine night or something." He met Becky's gaze nervously. It was all new territory for him—for her too, by the sounds of it—and he didn't want to mess anything up. "She said she won't be home until way past midnight."

Becky's gaze lit up. "And Richy's working until three at least, and Mom's off on a Europe leg. We could celebrate our first matches."

Seth pulled her closer and kissed her. Becky got cold at the best of times, and now that she was naked— _NAKED_ , he marveled, _and on my bed_ —she was shivering, so he tugged a blanket up over them, a cocoon of warmth and darkness. "Mom probably won't be home for an hour," he whispered, the small cozy space seeming to require quiet. 

"Good." Becky pressed closer, and he knew from the hunger in her kiss it wasn't just for warmth. "Then we can do that again. . . ."


	7. Chapter 7

"Tattoo party!" Chris, one of the wrestling school's younger students, came bounding into the ring area with what looked like a briefcase. Fergal had finally got a proper ring and the remaining students were clustered around it, learning all the parts and how to assemble and dissemble it optimally. 

Fergal rolled his eyes. "Maybe after the matches, Chris. And don't forget, we have minors here." He didn't specifically look at Seth and Becky, but everyone else already knew they were still in high school. It didn't seem to bother anyone, though: they were all there because they loved wrestling, and Becky was thrilled that no one treated her differently—at least not much differently—because she was a girl.

"Ah, come on! A little ink never hurt anyone. I've been properly trained," Chris continued, setting the case on the apron and popping it open. "All the equipment is legit. Clean needles, safe ink, gloves, everything. It'll be a bonding experience."

Becky's match was in the middle of the card and Seth's was at the end, so they had plenty of time to ask Chris questions between matches. "How small can you go?" Becky asked. "My ma would probably kill me. . . ."

"Depending on the design," Chris said, "it can be as small as a fingernail. Obviously if you want it in a hidden place, that’s going to be more difficult, because I don't think Big Brother Fergal would be down for that, but if you got something like one of these flash pieces, you could easily cover that with a bandage. Or even makeup. Celebrities do that all the time." He handed Becky and Seth a sheet with pre-drawn designs, gesturing to a cluster of discreet options.

"I like that," Becky and Seth said as one, as she pointed at a tiny moon and Seth at an equally small sun.

Chris nodded. "Yeah, those are small enough to cover easily." Then he rubbed his goatee. "I know you're underage, but fuck it. If you're game, I'm cool. I think it would be a cool reminder, and those are so small that they'll be easy to cover up or remove if you change your mind when you're older."

The prospect of the tattoo was on Becky's mind all throughout her match, so much so that Fergal had to call some spots to jog her memory. She stammered an apology and focussed for the rest of the match. Inevitably she lost, but Fergal and the other coaches all said she was one of the most improved students, and they complimented her fierce dedication. "It's not easy to be a girl in this business," Fergal said, holding up a water bottle in a mock salute, "but I have a feeling you're going to make this business easier for the girls who come after you."

"See?" Seth pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I told you."

That changed her train of thought from the tattoo offer to another impending celebration. She and Seth had gone to a pharmacy far from their usual haunts and bought condoms along with a bunch of random other things to make their purchase less obvious: gum, shampoo, a magazine. The cashier looked like she couldn't have cared less. "It's all that practice."

Seth's eyes shone in such a way that she knew his thoughts weren't far from her own. "Any time. Happy to help."

Seth's match against a guy named Henry was the highlight of the night, as Becky expected, and after a hard-fought battle, Seth ultimately won. "We have about an hour before your mom gets here," Becky said, pointing at the wall clock. They hadn't been sure if they would be able to get condoms easily, so they had given Holly a later pick-up time. "Do you really want the tattoo?"

"Yeah." The adrenaline still coursing through Seth made his eyes seem to glow. "You?"

"Sure." If she overthought it, she would never do it and then she would regret it later; if she got it done and regretted _that_ , she at least had more options. "Come on. Let's go find Chris."

After Seth had a quick shower, they went off to the lobby area where Chris had set up. Since he didn't have all his equipment there, he had a box ready and waiting for the used needles. As soon as he saw Seth and Becky approaching, he motioned for another student to stop. "Hey, guys. Can I sneak these two in quickly? They have to be ready for when their ride gets here, and their pieces are super small. It'll hardly take any time at all."

The other guy nodded and went back to the foyer bench. Seth and Becky shared a look before Becky sat first, holding out her right arm. "Right there, maybe?" she said, pointing to a spot just below the crook of her elbow. Something along the wrist would be easier to cover with a bracelet or watch, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to be able to see it every day. She was on her way to accomplishing one of her dreams, and this moon would be a symbol of that; why wouldn't she want to see it all the time?

Chris went over the spot first with a disposable razor to remove the fine hairs there, then with a dampened swab. "Ready? It'll feel a bit like being cut in slow motion, but it's since it's small, it shouldn't be too bad."

Seth came up along her other side and squeezed her hand. "It's going to be beautiful. Just like you."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I'd say _Get a room_ ," he muttered, voice low enough that the other waiting students couldn't overhear, "but I saw you checking that box of condoms about a billion times, so I'm guessing you have that covered." Then he cleared his throat. "So you're good?"

"I'm good." Becky took a deep breath. Unlike Seth, her adrenaline had worn off about an hour ago, so the sudden sharpness made her straighten up, but she didn't flinch. Within a matter of minutes, she had a perfect replica of the tiny crescent moon on her forearm, a bandage overtop that she wasn't supposed to remove until the next day, and a sheet of aftercare instructions. Then she and Seth swapped seats and the matching sun came to life on his left arm. If they were walking hand in hand, she realized as Chris was bandaging Seth's sun, their tattoos would be almost aligned. "Thanks, Chris."

Seth gently poked at his bandage. Even with the adrenaline, he'd had a moment where he tensed up too, so Becky didn't feel too bad. "Thanks, man. First of many."

"Once you get the bug," Chris warned with a grin, "you'll always be mapping out what skin you have left uninked. Next!" Henry, Seth's opponent from earlier, was the next to sit in the chair, and Chris began his spiel all over again.

After saying good night to Fergal and thanking him for all his help, Seth and Becky gathered their things and waited for Holly to arrive. Naturally, the first thing she noticed were their bandages. "Did you two get hurt?" She looked vaguely horrified, which was at least an improvement over the _I told you something bad would happen_ speech she would have given them a month or so ago.

Seth shook his head. "Nah, nothing major. We were learning how to put the ring together and take it down, and we lost our grip on something." Before he could stop himself, he reached for Becky's hand, and she saw Holly notice in the rear-view mirror, but his mother just smiled softly before returning her attention to the road.

After Holly dropped them off and headed to meet up with her friends, Seth and Becky barely waited until her headlights left the driveway to sneak into his house and start kissing, tugging at each other's clothes. "There's the couch," Seth groaned when Becky started unzipping his jeans. Their shoes were in a heap by the door, their bags tossed in the general direction of the stairs.

"And if she comes home early?" She tugged him towards the stairs, but paused before starting to go up. "Unless you want to go to my place? Then we'd definitely have more warning, because she would have to knock to even get inside."

"But if your brother got off early and caught me in your room," Seth countered, "he might get pissed. I'm pretty sure he can do more damage than my mom." They grabbed their bags and chased each other up to his room, pausing every few steps to kiss and tease. Once they reached his room, Seth already had his shirt off and he dropped it on the floor. "I'll leave the door open," he said, "just in case she comes back early."

"Get the condoms out," Becky suggested, voice already raspy with want, "so we don't forget." While Seth took the box out of his bag, she shimmied out of her jeans and left them on the floor. Sometimes it could be hard to tell their clothes apart since they liked the same colours, so she kept her pile closer to the door.

"Hey!" Seth exclaimed when he saw that she had an early start. "What if I wanted to do that?"

"Next time," Becky grinned, pulling her shirt over her head. Now that she was just in her bra and panties, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hard kiss. "I want to do it at least once before we're worrying about her coming home."

Seth didn't need much encouraging beyond _at least once_ , and in under a minute they were both naked and under his covers, hands gloriously busy. "Not too much," he groaned, grabbing Becky's wrist to slow her pace. "Or else—"

"Then get a condom already," Becky laughed. They were both on their sides and she reached over him, plucking one square from the box and opening it carefully. Getting the condom on involved fumbling, some laughter, and consulting the box a few times, but once she had it smoothed down, she settled back beside him, blushing slightly. "There."

"You know I don't know what I'm doing, right?" Seth asked, his flushed cheeks glowing in his dimly lit room. "I mean, I've seen it in movies and whatever. . . ."

"Same." Then she gently pushed him onto his back and straddled his legs. "I can try first, and if that doesn't work—"

Seth's eyes fluttered shut as she grabbed his cock, and then his whole body seemed to go liquid for a second. "Holy fuck," he breathed, looking up at Becky as she was lowering herself onto him. Her brow furrowed in a combination of focus and pain, but then she started moving her hips the same way she did when his hand was between her legs, and Seth's brain started to buzz. 

"Is this . . . okay?" She was rocking faster now, hands planted on his chest for balance, and her tattoo bandage had a plastic sheen in the darkness.

"Fuck yes." Since Becky's hands were busy, Seth slid one of his along her thigh until he found that spot again, coaxing it with his thumb until she sounded as frantic as he felt. He came before he could even think of stopping it, but Becky kept riding him, pressing his hand close until she let out a short shriek and slid off him. " _Fuck_." He couldn't think of a single coherent thing to say, so he focussed on his breathing and hers, both ragged, as he stroked her back.

"That is so much better than fingers," Becky murmured, curling up against his side and rolling the condom off carefully, setting it on the nightstand.

"Your fingers, maybe," Seth teased, parting her thighs with one hand and sneaking the other between them. "You liked mine just fine yesterday. . . ."

Becky rolled onto her back and looked up at him. "You'll have to remind me. And then we'll need another condom."

Seth reached over and spilled the squares out by the pillow, then dropped the used condom in the box. The less clean-up they had to do later, the better. "This is a much better match than wrestling Henry," he said with a grin, leaning down to kiss her.

"I'll tell him that next weekend," Becky replied, wrapping her arms around his neck as he eased a finger inside her. Their night didn't last quite as long as the wrestling bout at Fergal's school, but they were almost as sweaty and exhausted by the end of it, and they had lost track of time so badly that Becky had to dash home half-dressed when her brother pulled in the driveway.


	8. Chapter 8

Becky knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her tattoo forever, especially not with how many sleeveless shirts she had. To her surprise, her mother wasn't even truly mad. Annette shook her head with something like resignation and said, "Well, at least it's a small one. It should be easy enough to remove when you get sick of it. I hope you didn't pay a lot for it." When Becky told her it was a gift from a fellow wrestling student, Annette shook her head again. "You get what you pay for, Rebecca, you know that," she chided gently. "Just . . . keep it clean and follow the instructions. I don't want you getting an infection."

Seth's mother wasn't quite so forgiving. He got the lecture about possible diseases—AIDS! Hepatitis! Tetanus!—he might get if the needles weren't clean or single-use. When he assured her that Chris was a legitimate tattoo artist working out of a real tattoo parlour, Holly started ranting about how it would be harder for him to get a job with a visible tattoo. Pointing out that it was small and easily hidden didn't seem to help, so Seth tried to keep it covered around his mother as much as possible. 

They declared that they were dating around the same time, but that seemed to go down easier with both mothers. "Probably because they don't think it will last," Seth muttered. He and Becky were walking hand in hand around the school while they waited for Holly to arrive, their tattoos neatly aligned. "At least my mom doesn't." 

Becky squeezed his hand. "They're both divorced," she pointed out. "So they know things don't always work out. But that doesn't mean we won't." She pressed closer to his side, and not just for warmth. She spent so much time with him that it felt strange when he wasn't around. They hadn't explicitly told their mothers that they were having sex, but Becky knew her mother wasn't stupid. At his house, Seth was in charge of taking out the garbage, so he could easily dispose of the used condoms before Holly might see them. When Becky tried to swap for garbage duty with her brother, Richy immediately suspected something was up. She had broken down and told him, begging him not to tell Annette, and he just told her to be careful and always use condoms; in case she and Seth needed some and they didn't have any, Richy told her where he kept his stash. It wasn't anything she particularly wanted to know about her brother, but she appreciated the sentiment. She was also pretty sure Richy had mentioned something to their mother, but Annette hadn't said anything directly about it, so she was doing the mother thing: waiting for Becky to come to her and confess.

"I know. It just sucks. Mom used to go on and on about how I was never happy, but when I try to do something that makes me happy, she always finds a problem with it." Seth kicked some rocks off the sidewalk and onto the road. "She's always known I've loved wrestling, but as soon as I can pursue it, she doesn't want me to. She complains that I don't have enough friends and. . . ." Seth glanced over at Becky and smiled before leaning in to kiss her. Even though they had gone through the box of condoms in less than a week, they still blushed a bit whenever they kissed. "Then I meet you, and you live right next door and you're funny and smart and you like wrestling, and Mom complains _again_."

Becky was pretty sure that had more to do with the girlfriend aspect than anything. The last thing Holly would want would be to discover that her son had gotten someone pregnant, so for her it would be easier if he weren't dating _anyone_ , but especially not the girl next door. "She just worries," Becky said softly, resting her head against his shoulder. "She doesn't want you to get hurt."

Seth rolled his eyes. "Getting hurt in wrestling is going to happen no matter what," he insisted. "And you would never hurt me on purpose."

"No, but you're going to graduate before I do." Now that Becky's transcripts from Ireland had finally arrived, her classes had been adjusted in kind, bumping her up a grade in some subjects. It meant she finally shared a class with Seth—English literature—but she was still a grade behind in others. Even if she could take some classes in summer school next year, she wouldn't be able to graduate right away. "So you'll be going away to college or uni or whatever, and I'll be stuck here."

"You could come with me?" It was the most hesitant she had ever heard Seth, and his gaze was as soft as melted chocolate. "I don't even know what I'd go in for or which schools I'd apply to—something close to one of the indie wrestling leagues so I could do that too—but I could get a part-time job and an apartment off campus. There would probably be a high school nearby where you could finish, and if you found a part-time job. . . ."

Could she? She wasn't sure what sort of hoops her mother and brother, both still Irish citizens, had jumped through in order to work legally in the States, but they were also skilled. The best she would be able to do was retail work or maybe waitressing, if she weren't so clumsy. But why would anyone hire a potential paperwork disaster when they could have someone who carried no legal risk? "I don't know if I'd be allowed to work here," Becky admitted, "but I could look into it." It wasn't a conversation she really wanted to have with her mother, because Annette would immediately suspect why she was asking. "Or you could work for a year while I finished school, and I could work too, and then we'd have some money saved up. . . ." Though she was far more like her dreamer dad, Becky had inherited some of her mother's pragmatism.

"That could work too. We've got all year to figure it out." They made their final turn and started heading back to the school. "And I could get a car so we wouldn't have to ask my mom or your brother for rides to the wrestling school all the time." That session had ended a few weeks after their first match, but Fergal said he would be starting another one in the new year and invited them both to return; since he knew neither of them had a ton of money to spare, he even offered to cut the rate in half so they could afford to take more classes.

Holly must have gotten off early, because even though they had their after-school time measured to the minute, she was driving up just as they crossed the road back to the school. "Hey, guys. Becky, your mom called me at work and she needs you to come straight home, okay?"

Becky nodded blankly. Her mother had only ever asked that of her in two situations: when she was getting deeper into drinking and if something serious had happened. Since Becky hadn't touched anything stronger than a painkiller for some menstrual cramps since arriving in the States, she didn't think her mother was worried about her becoming addicted. "Okay. Thanks," she stammered as she slid into the back seat like normal. "Did she say what's wrong?"

Holly barely waited until Seth was in the car to merge back into traffic. "No, she didn't. I'm sorry, honey." She met Becky's gaze in the rear-view mirror. "It didn't sound like she had a lot of time to talk."

Seth squeezed her hand, forgetting to pull down his sleeve over his tattoo. "It's okay. If she can call and she wants you to go home, then she must be okay. She's not in the hospital or anything."

Becky's lungs seemed to shrivel, making each breath harder than the last. "But what about Richy, though? What if he got hurt at work or something?"

"Then she would have asked me to take you to the hospital, honey," Holly said gently, speeding as much as she dared. She couldn’t push it much within city limits, but as soon as they were on the highway, she zipped past semi-trucks and slow drivers. "She specifically asked me to get you home as soon as possible. It can't have been a house fire," she added, "because our places are so close that ours would have gone up too, and no one called me at work."

Even with Holly uncharacteristically speeding, it seemed to take forever to reach their small town, and the sudden decrease in speed felt like someone had dropped a sack of bricks on Becky's shoulders. When they reached the gravel driveway, she gave Seth a quick kiss before grabbing her backpack. "Thank you so much, Holly. I really appreciate it."

"Of course, honey." Her words were mostly lost as Becky grabbed her bag, got out of the car, and hurried up to her back door. "If your family needs anything," Holly called out the opened passenger window, "just call us!"

To Becky's surprise, Richy opened the door, and she hugged him so tightly that he yelped. "I'm fine, Becks. It's not about me." He returned the hug, lifting her one-armed so he could shut the door. "I just got home five minutes ago. Mom's on her way." 

"What's wrong?" Becky let her bag drop to the floor, not caring that a box of condoms was plainly visible in the open front pocket. She would have the birds-and-bees talk again with her mother fifty times over it meant everyone was okay. "What happened?"

Richy bent to grab Becky's bag before she could trip on it. "Come into the living room," he said simply, leading the way. Dread sat heavy in Becky's belly as she flopped down on the couch. "There's no good way to say it, so . . . Dad was diagnosed with cancer."

Becky knew she was upright because she was sitting against the couch arm, but her whole world seemed to slide sideways, blurring at the edges. "What? How? How . . . when? When did he know? When did he call?"

Sitting beside her, Richy wrapped his arms around his sister and kissed the top of her head. "I don't know many details; we're supposed to call him when we're all home so he doesn't have to retell the story three times over. He called Mom at work and I was able to get away earlier because she had legal stuff to do after landing—Customs and shit—but she knew Holly would get to you faster, so she asked her to get you home right away."

"But . . . but. . . ." What was there to say? Becky knew she should have a million questions, but words were flying around her head like dandelion seeds in a wind storm. "How long? How long does he have? What kind?" She tried thinking back to her science classes. Had they covered cancer yet? Which was the worst one? Becky thought it was something with digestion.

"Becks, I don't know." Richy took a deep, shuddering breath and started to cry. "Mom never said. I think she wanted my head to be on straight for when you got home. She should be here any minute."

Becky's tears felt strangely cold on her cheeks, and she wiped her face against Richy's sleeve a few times before it was soaked through. "But . . . he can't," she whimpered. "He's never seen me wrestle. I never thought to take a video. He always believed in me and he helped me pay the fee, and he hasn't even seen me in a match. . . ."

"Shhh. It's okay." Richy held her close and rubbed her back until Annette barreled through the back door. For a second her gaze lingered on Becky's bag, but she quickly dismissed it and hurried forward to hug her kids. "Ma, how bad is it?"

Annette kissed Richy's head and then Becky's, tears freely flowing down her face. She and Ken might not have been able to work as a couple, but they had still brought two children into the world together and remained good friends. "It's lung cancer. He said to call him tonight when we can all talk to him, but . . . but I think it's time for us to go back home. He needs us."

Becky's heart already felt like it was breaking, but now it was shattering, pieces falling every which way. She wanted her father to be healthy and well. She wanted to be with Seth and have him get into a wrestling league—have them _both_ reach that dream—and be happy. She wanted her world to have both of them in it, and soon she might not have either.


	9. Chapter 9

Seth was torn between drowning his anxiety in loud music and keeping an ear out for Becky. Hours had passed since she ran into her house and he had heard Annette arrive not long after, but none of them had come back out of the house since. When he had asked his mother if he should go over to offer some help, Holly shook her head. "Annette didn't give me any details," she said, "but it sounded bad. I think they need some time to themselves. Becky will let you know when she can."

Waiting was agony, but he couldn't make himself go to sleep. A burst of light outside his window caught his eye, and he flipped the curtain back just quickly enough to see Becky crossing the driveway over to his house. Rocketing down the stairs two or three at a time, Seth called out, "Becky's coming over!"

To his surprise, his mother shrugged into her jacket. "I'll give you two some time and I'll go over to ask Annette how she's doing."

The double act of kindness took Seth by surprise, and he gave his mother a fierce hug. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome." Holly put on the first pair of shoes she could find and was just opening the door as Becky arrived. "Hi, honey. Take as much time as you need. I'm going to go talk with your mother." She took Becky by surprise too when she gave her a half-hug and kissed her cheek before leaving the house.

Seth barely had to look at Becky to see she was a wreck. Wide-eyed, crying, shaking: she looked like she was about to fall apart, so he took her by the hands and led her inside, straight into the living room without worrying about her shoes or locking the door behind her. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, helping her sit down. "What happened?"

"My dad has lung cancer," Becky sobbed, sounding small and broken as she clung to Seth. Her tears soaked through his shirt in seconds, but he held her close in his lap for what felt like an hour until she finally caught her breath. "And Ma wants to go back so we're close by in case—" She tried twice more, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. 

_Ma wants to go back_. It was selfish, utterly selfish, and Seth knew it, but his gut twisted at the thought of losing her. It wasn't just moving to another town or even another state; Becky would be crossing an ocean, going to another country. There would be no possibility of road trips or weekends together; she was going to be half a world away. "When?" His voice cracked as he asked and he knew he should have saved his questions for important things, like how long her father was expected to live. But he couldn't think past the girl on his lap, the matching tattoos on their arms, the relief of having a friend and girlfriend all in one. Things like that didn't happen all the time; for some people, they never happened at all. 

"Soon. Ma's going to the school tomorrow to let them know and then it's just packing and—" Becky started crying again, burying her face in his shoulder.

After that night, time seemed to pass in flashes. Becky was taken out of classes so she could help pack up the house. When she told Fergal she was leaving and wouldn't be able to attend the next set of classes, the teacher called around and found that one of the students had taped all the matches and he promised to get the footage to her in Ireland. She spent as much time with Seth as she could, but it was never enough. 

On her final night in the States, their mothers and Richy conveniently went out for drinks, making a point of saying they wouldn’t be home until at least two. Even a week ago, Seth and Becky would have both been blushing furiously at the thinly veiled hint, but now they just enjoyed their last night together, kissing and crying and having sex and hardly leaving his bed. "We can call each other," Seth murmured softly. "I'll get a long distance card or whatever, and I'll set the second time on my watch to Ireland time."

"And write," Becky added, resting her head over his heart. "I know where you live, after all."

Seth chuckled. "I'm so scared. Come and find me, Irish."

"Maybe I will." Becky was quiet for a long moment. "I hate this. I'm losing my dad an I'm losing you, and—"

"Hey. You aren't losing anyone. I'm right here." Seth held her closer to his chest. "You know where I live, remember? Do they have Spring Break in Ireland? Anything? Maybe you could come visit, or maybe I could go to Ireland. I think it would be easier if I were eighteen, but if there's something to sign, my mom would do it. . . ." He stroked her back until her breath evened out. "And your dad still has a chance. If they caught it early. . . ."

That night was their goodbye, they had already decided. Seth didn't want to upset Becky and make her cry before she boarded the plane, and he didn't want to be a mess on the way home from the airport. He still peeked out the window the next morning, though, watching Annette, Richy, and Becky pack their things into their car for the last time; they had sold the junker to one of Richy's friends from work, who was going to meet them at the airport and take possession of it there.

Becky didn't look up at his window, but he didn't blame her. He knew she was struggling to keep it together. He just hoped Richy had slipped the letter he had written the day before into her luggage without her noticing; he hoped it would be a nice surprise when she unpacked her things in Ireland. 

After closing the trunk, Annette waved once at the house they were leaving behind and then at Seth and Holly's. His mother must have been in the kitchen waving back, because Annette smiled. After one false start, the engine turned over and they were gone. Once again, the first of The Orphans was going to be abandoned, and Seth had never hated that more.


	10. Chapter 10

They had good intentions. Most parted friends and lovers do. The calls were every other day at first, then every week once long-distance became too expensive. The letters grew shorter and less frequent. Spring Break came and went without any talk of a visit in either direction. By the time summer arrived, Seth was busy with a landscaping job. Within a year, he was wrestling in local leagues and travelling the country. Every once in a while he happened upon someone else who also trained with Fergal and they would ask about Becky, and another stretch of calls would begin, but it never lasted long. Absence made the heart grow fonder, but it also made the heart hurt more. It was easier to have random relationships with local girls, waitresses and designers who had no clue about wrestling.

The world was Becky's ring. Canada, Japan, Germany: she wrestled anywhere that would have her, at least until she couldn't, when she finally suffered an injury so bad that she was forced to follow her mother's advice and step away. Then she did everything _but_ wrestle: attended university, became a flight attendant, did stunt work on television shows. All of it combined elements of what she loved about wrestling—the strategy, the theatrics, the travel—but none of it really scratched the itch. Then, just like a certain ad over a decade ago, an announcement found its way to her when she least expected it. "Ma, it's killing me, not wrestling" she said. "I have to try again." She hadn't even been watching much wrestling because it hurt too much.

" _Wrestling_ could kill you, Rebecca. That's what I worry about," Annette had replied. "But I want you to be happy." Ken had said the same, but more enthusiastically; after doing everything possible to survive lung cancer, he took a far simpler view of life and just wanted his loved ones to be happy.

It was still a long path with no guarantees, but Becky worked on getting back into fighting shape and then made the fateful trek to the States once more, investing herself in her dream and hoping that the WWE developmental tryouts were the answer she had been subconsciously seeking for so very long. Florida was sunny and warm, which was a bonus, and she tried to not let herself be bothered that so many of the prospects were younger than her. _They're on their first runs,_ she kept telling herself as she looked at the incredibly fit and fierce-looking women in the locker room. If there was ever a sign that the bra-and-panties era was done, it was right there in that performance centre. 

There was plenty of experience around the performance centre too, though, some relatively big names even she had heard in her self-imposed wrestling isolation. When she heard that Nattie Neidhart would be helping with the women's division, she couldn’t help but smile; they'd had some wicked battles when she was wrestling in Canada. Hers wasn't the only familiar face she saw, though. As Becky walked through Catering, making note of what the fittest people were eating or not eating, she thought she saw a familiar face, or at least the ghost of it. Her nan had always said that you never really stopped being a kid or a teenager or a young adult; you just developed more layers around that inherent core. The adult version wasn't one Becky had met: his hair was longer and beautifully curly, one side dyed mostly blonde; a beard and mustache framed his face well; he had definitely gotten taller, and had put on an impressive amount of muscle. Of course, that all stood to reason; if she was right, she hadn't seen him for over ten years.

There was always the possibility that she was wrong. It wasn't like there weren't a lot of dark-haired, dark-eyed male wrestlers out there. Something in his gaze had seemed familiar, though, and when she got close enough, Becky saw another tell-tale sign: a small sun tattoo on his left forearm, just below his elbow. It wasn't a particularly unique design, so anyone could have it, but something in her just knew. . . .

"Seth?" she chanced, keeping a slight distance. Maybe he wouldn't hear her; maybe it was someone else entirely and she would have to say _Wrong person, sorry to bother you_.

But then he looked at her—first up at her eyes and then down to her right arm, and when his gaze found the tiny moon there, the tattoo she had almost had removed when she was considering an acting career, his face transformed and she could see the sixteen-year-old boy again. "Becky?" His voice made her name a mixture of confusion and wonder.

"Yeah. Not sure if they'll let me keep it—well, they have to accept me first, but. . . ." Becky trailed off, cursing herself. She wasn't an awkward teenager anymore; she was in her mid-twenties and had done more in some years of her life than others did in their entire lifetimes. Why was she so scatterbrained at the sight of her high school boyfriend? "And you?" 

Even though it was now framed by the moustache and beard, that smile was one Becky would recognize anywhere. It had led her into trouble plenty of times in the past and if the look in Seth's eyes was any indication, he wouldn't mind if history—at least certain parts of it—repeated themselves. "Seth Rollins," he grinned. "Just like I planned." Then he gestured down at her tattoo. "You kept it. I figured you would have had it removed by now."

Becky self-consciously rubbed it with her thumb. In hard times, that little moon had been a sort of beacon, reminding her that she'd enjoyed good times and survived bad ones in equal measure. "And you kept yours."

"Yeah. Got a couple more too." Seth showed her a scroll on the inside of his wrist before standing and pulling up his shirt enough to show a line of kanji going down his spine. Becky was glad he couldn't see her so he didn't notice how quickly her hand rose to trace the characters. "What have you been up to? I was watching the indie circuits for you, but I never saw you."

Sitting in the chair next to his, Becky started to ramble about her last decade or so, the highs and the lows, and as the minutes ticked by, they gradually edged closer, the sun and moon aligned once more.


End file.
